


In Which Jack and Davey Take It In Turns to Fuck Up™

by feathertail, FeralCreed



Series: RP Fics [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Co-Written, David Jacobs is an idiot, Fake Relationship, Fluff, Jack Kelly is an idiot, M/M, Mention Of Dub-Con, Modern AU, Originally an RP, Pining, Sarah has to sort them out, dub-con because you can't give consent when you're drunk, very minor mention of dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-28 03:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathertail/pseuds/feathertail, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: A phone call interrupts Jack and Davey's studying, and in answer to her question of who Jack is bringing home for Christmas, he blurts out Davey's name. Davey, all too aware of his own crush, definitely thinks this is a bad idea. But even with his sister's help, can they get themselves together enough to be in an actual relationship before someone gets seriously hurt?12/7/18 This story will no longer be continued.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally an RP, as you can probably tell, so it's a bit of back and forth, but hopefully it makes sense - enjoy!

Jack's phone rang while they were studying. He picked it up only intending to glance at it before he set it back down, but then he saw the name on the caller ID. "Well, hello there, Medda," he said cheerfully, putting the call on speaker and putting it on the table. "What do you need from your favourite this fine afternoon?" He picked up his pencil and scribbled a few notes on the margin of one of his papers.   
"Jack Kelly, you tell me who you're bringing home for Christmas, boy."   
He rolled his eyes at Davey before sitting back in his seat. "You ask me that every year, Medda, don'tcha remember what I said last time?"   
"Last time it was an Irish girl and she didn't show up."   
"Okay, well, this time he's going to show up, all right?"   
"Who's 'he'?"   
Their conversation went around in circles for a few minutes before Jack blurted out something he maybe shouldn't have. "It's Davey!"  
  
Davey simply grinned as Jack picked up the call from Medda, having been expecting it for a while. It always happened around Christmas, and Race always had a betting pool going with what the excuse this year would be. He didn't bet, of course. That was irresponsible. He had to set an example, as the declared Mom Friend. Of course. So he kept his head down and continued working, correcting a few of Jack's scribbles with his own pencil.  
  
And he was focusing just fine, until Jack apparently blurted out that Davey was his significant other for the Christmas period, and therefore would be coming home with him. He snapped his head round so fast to look at his best friend than his neck cricked, and he simultaneously broke the lead in his pencil.   
  
"What the fuck?" he hissed, reaching for Jack and the phone in an attempt to eliminate the last sentence Jack had said. "We are not together, what the hell are you saying, I'm not your boyfriend, Kelly, you-" he spluttered as he tried to reach for the phone, trying to keep quiet but at the same time get his point across.  
  
Jack almost felt guilty that Davey broke his pencil, but really, that was his own fault. There was no reason for him to have that kind of reaction just because his friend had said something. People said weird shit all the time, there was no reason to overreact, and the two of them were far from normal. They were weird all the time, so were Crutchie and Spot and Race and all the others. It wasn't like they ever gave the other guys hell over things they said.   
  
And then Davey tried to murder him. Jack leaned back as far as he could without falling off the chair, swatting at his friend with one hand to try to keep him off. Of course, the ruckus came through the phone, and he could hear Medda asking if he was okay through the phone. "No, Medda, everything's all right. Stop worrying about me so much, it's like I'm a child. Davey's home, I gotta go, all right?" He hung up on her before she could answer, or really, before his phone could get grabbed and something inappropriate could be said.   
  
The chair tipped back over thanks to all their grabbing back and forth, with Jack ending up on the bottom unfortunately. He squirmed out from under the other and briefly considered running for the window since they were only on the first floor before going for the door. Davey would be fine, but at the moment, that only left himself in a bit more jeopardy considering that he was probably about to be strangled with his own shoelaces or something.   
  
Davey knew exactly why he'd reacted the way he had, and he was now mentally berating himself as he extricated himself from the two chairs, wincing a little. He took a moment once he was vertical again to compose himself, not allowing himself to pursue Jack. No matter how big of a crush he may or may not have had on him, he'd been an idiot and could have given the game away. So he stood the chairs back up and seated himself back at the desk.  
  
He picked up his pencil, flicked the broken end into the bin, then reached for his sharpener, twisting his wrist in short, sharp flicks. He bowed his head over his work, not allowing himself to think of Jack and what the whole situation was going to end up as. Maybe he'd just misinterpreted? But he was fairly sure he was going to fuck up anyway, no matter what.  
  
It was a bit later when he heard signs of Jack approaching, and hovering, and he turned his patented Glare Of Doom (title courtesy of Race, of course) on the doorway, Jack's pencil in his hand this time as he sharpened it, fed up of the blunt point.  
  
Surprisingly enough, Jack was not tracked down by angry hellhounds, which left him with time to think about what he'd done. Of course, that wasn't what he did at all. Instead he hung out with Spot, Race, Crutchie, and Romeo for a few hours, pointedly not mentioning the mess he'd probably gotten himself into. Of course, Spot and Race were disgustingly close, which made Romeo throw shit at them while Jack teased them.   
  
Eventually he picked up some food on the way home, getting a couple of Davey's favourites in the hope of not getting murdered on sight. He knew he probably should have discussed things before he sprung that on his friend, but it was only gonna be for a week, right? They probably didn't even have to kiss or anything, just be all up in each others' space and cuddle and shit. Which was kind of what they did anyway, or at least Jack did when he could get away with it. Davey was a damn fine cuddler when he wasn't busy.   
  
Of course, Davey had kept working while Jack had skived off. "Hey there, mate," he said cheerfully as he came in, kicking the door shut behind him. From that look, he was in so. Much. Trouble. Well, it couldn't be worse than some of the scrapes he'd gotten into before, right? Or maybe it could. "Aw, c'mon, Davey, you ain't still mad at me, are ya?"  
  
Davey closed his eyes and took a deep exasperated breath, holding it for a moment before letting it go, turning back to his work. "Not only are you lying to Medda, Jack, you're asking me to lie to her. Pretending to be someone's significant other is serious!" Especially when you're going to have to keep a close eye on yourself to ensure you don't slip up and reveal your crush to the man himself. "Not to mention it's a whole week of lying, not just some simple dinner. And there's going to be questions - how did we get together, how long have we been together, have we said I love you yet, do we sleep in the same bed, have we had _sex_ yet..." he trailed off, thankfully, because his voice was starting to get a little bit cracked with embarrassment.  
  
"We're going to have to have the same story, to the letter, none of your making it up on the spot, and we're going to have to be touchy feely and have nicknames and a load of other horrible clichés-" He finished writing his essay and wrote his name at the top before setting it aside and swivelling back to face Jack. "You call me the Walking Mouth and yet you can't even think about the consequences for your actions before you open your mouth. You're lucky I'm gay as fuck," he huffed, standing up to go through to the kitchen, brushing past Jack.  
  
"Of course it's serious, that's why I need you." Duh. "Who else am I gonna be able to trust with this?" As for the rest of it... yeah, it kind of sucked, but there was no going back on it now. "Besides, either we play this through and Medda doesn't find out, orrr she finds out I'm lying to her when I show up for the holidays and Christmas is ruined for everyone."   
  
"Come on, you can do anything for a week, even pretend to like a fucking weirdo like me. And Medda loves you anyway, and we get along really well too." Jack grinned when the other's voice cracked a little, finding his reaction funny. "Don't worry, we can tell her you're saving yourself for marriage even though you're dating a handsome scoundrel like me. It won't take long to figure the rest out." Although Davey probably wouldn't want to leave the planning to him.   
  
"Oh come on, I never make stuff up on the spot." Which was a complete and blatant lie. Jack Kelly was not a person prone to making plans. "I'm touchy feely even without dating you, and technically Davey's a nickname so we can stick with that, and of course we don't have to have clichés, we're two bright and shining stars amidst the grunge of New York. Clichés are beneath us."   
  
"I'm lucky with everything concerning you, my angel," Jack pointed out, following him into the kitchen. "And you're still mouthier than I am, always will be. You just don't punch people that don't like what you have to say." Which wasn't his first choice in things, usually, but not something he was shy of. "C'mon, I got takeout from your favourite place."  
  
"Yeah, but knowing Medda, she's gonna tell anyone and everyone, and then everyone's gonna know, and then when we 'break up' someone's going after me, and someone's going after you... there's no way to end it cleanly, Jack." And even if they pretended it was amicable, Davey would still be hurt anyway... going from loving Jack openly to hiding it away again... not good.  
  
He spluttered his way through 'saving yourself for marriage', a flush rising up the back of his neck. "Jack, I've had sex before, I'm not a, y'know, virgin!" He fidgeted awkwardly with the hem of his t-shirt.  
  
He scoffed. "Liar liar, you've burnt the house down. You make everything up on the spot, Jack Kelly." He snorted at the metaphor, mimicking him under his breath, "We're two bright and shining stars amidst the grunge of New York, clichés are beneath us."  
  
Davey rolled his eyes, turning around to poke him in the chest. "No 'angel'." Then he turned back, clicking the kettle on to make himself a coffee, hiding the blush that told how he actually may have liked that. "You know where the plates are, Kelly. But don't think I've forgiven you-" he pointed his teaspoon at his friend. "I'm only eating it because I don't want to waste food." He sat down at the table after collecting his drink and cutlery for them both. "So there," he mumbled into his drink, taking a long draught.  
  
"Then maybe you're just gonna be stuck with me," Jack suggested with a grin. Not something he'd be entirely against himself, if he'd be honest about it, but of course he wasn't about to do that. Why face feelings when you could completely bury and ignore them? And it had never crossed his mind that Davey might feel the same way about him. Besides, they were close enough that it wouldn't really be a stretch from best friends to lovers, so it wasn't like he'd be surprising anyone.   
  
"Doesn't matter if you're a virgin or not," he said with a roll of his eyes. He didn't care either way. "I want stories, though," he teased. Not exactly, because talking about either of their sex lives wasn't exactly a habit, but he'd bet it would be worth it for the look on his friend's face.   
  
"Not everything. I've never made up my name." And that was about the only thing he could say had always been prior knowledge. Otherwise... yeah, Jack wasn't someone who made plans for anything. Unless one of his buddies roped him into something, which wasn't uncommon, really, so there was that. "Yeah, and I planned that pizza night last week." There.   
  
"Oh so you're more of a demonic guy," he deadpanned. "Nah, I'm not seeing it. In fact, there's a halo right there, right above your head. Plain as day." Both of them were a few steps from angelic, but he'd definitely consider Davey the better person in most ways.  
  
He grinned at the mention of the plates, setting down the takeout bag to grab plates and napkins, setting them down in front of Davey with a flourish. "See, you date me and I bring you home dinner. It's a win win situation." As he went around the table, he kissed the top of his head, just to be a shit, and started taking the containers out of the bag and placing them on the counter so he could sort through what was what.  
  
Davey tried to fight the flush rising further up his neck at the idea that Jack could be his boyfriend for the rest of his life; he'd stubbornly not allowed himself to think about that, even in his wildest fantasies. Best not to get attached, you know.  
  
"I know it doesn't matter," he retorted with a huff, folding his arms. "And you're not getting stories." Mostly because the most 'sex' he'd had was blowing a guy while moderately drunk, or mutual handjobs. Nothing more.  
  
"Lie, you make up fake middle names all the time. Les is convinced you have about fourteen," he challenged, raising an eyebrow, smirk playing across his lips. "And I know Crutchie was the actual planner of that, he told me you just moaned on the couch about it until he sorted it."  
  
He gave a long-suffering sigh, running a hand through his hair. He didn't bother to give Jack a response, just sticking to staring into his coffee, not wanting him to tease more.  
  
He did jerk his head up at the kiss, though, and swatted at him, but missed, and somehow smacked his ass instead; he quickly hid his reddening face in his coffee.  
  
"See, now you have me curious, and inventing kinky sexual fantasies to satisfy that curiosity. You're driving me down this path with every second, Davey, I really hope you know you're responsible. And that you look beautiful in handcuffs in my head." Lies and bullshit, every single piece of it, but he didn't need to know that. It wasn't like either of them had ever refrained from teasing the other before, and he certainly had no intention of starting now.   
  
"Look at you, you're practically my boyfriend already. Familiar with my dirty secrets, calling me out on my bull, living with me." He raised an eyebrow at the last part, giving him what was meant to be a sensual smirk. No need to not tease. "Besides, if Les is so gullible, that's his own fault." He chuckled at the clear inclusion of Crutchie, remember it very well. They'd both had fun conning poor Les, though of course, they both thought the other deserved it.   
  
"Now, now, Davey, save that sort of behaviour for the bedroom. Otherwise we'll never get through dinner if you keep spanking me." Which was said exclusively to embarrass the other, there wasn't any question about that.  
  
"Well, you keep doing that, go take a shower, and I'll go be a normal human in the kitchen," Davey said condescendingly, hoping to conceal the fact that his throat constricted at the thought that Jack thought of him at all, let alone in that fashion, even though he knew it was just harmless banter.  
  
"Yes, well," he answered briskly, dismissing Jack and his bull quickly. "You keep with your fantasies. The bathroom awaits, your highness."  
  
He turned an even brighter red at Jack's words, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Jack..." he started awkwardly. "Can we not?" He hoped it seemed that he was just uncomfortable talking about sex with his best friend, when really he was trying to avoid the subject for a completely different reason that hadn't arisen yet, but could occur if Jack continued being a dick about it.  
  
"Yeah, right, you're no more a normal human being than I am." Of that, Jack was entirely certain. If one of them were normal, they would never have gotten along as well as they did. And honestly, he hadn't expected to like Davey as much as he did when they'd started rooming together. It was definitely a bonus that he got away with cuddling every so often. He wasn't at all taken aback by the tone he'd been received with. Few things really got on his nerves.   
  
"I'm so glad you're finally recognising my royal status. I feel like this is the first step to us truly understanding each other and the special dynamics of our relationship." He didn't manage to entirely say that with a straight face, breaking into a grin about halfway through the second sentence. Like hell would he ever want to lord something over his best friend and pretend boyfriend.   
  
He shrugged at Davey's request to knock it off. "All right, yeah. So I guess we tell Medda that we haven't had sex yet," he teased, bringing the food over. "Should still be warm, I didn't pick it up too long ago." And his fake boyfriend knew where the microwave was, no question about that. Usually they didn't discuss it, so he didn't find it entirely strange that Davey wanted to break things off.  
  
"Getouttait," Davey laughed as Jack proclaimed his 'royal status'. "Special dynamics my ass, Kelly." He scoffed, swatting gently at Jack's shoulder, shoving him lightly.  
  
He just grunted that he'd heard, taking a carton and tipping some onto his plate, then dug in; it was probably good this had happened, because if Jack hadn't come back he likely would have kept working and forgotten to eat. He didn't speak much the whole meal, just asking for cartons that were closer to Jack that he wanted passing over.  
  
By the end, despite his coffee, his eyes were drooping, and he stifled six yawns in a minute. "I'm going to bed," he mumbled as he tidied away his dishes. "Night, Jacky."  
  
He padded through into his room, shed his clothes so he stood only in his boxers, pulled on his sleep shirt, brushed his teeth, then tumbled into bed, clocking out as his head hit the pillow.  
  
Jack grinned when Davey laughed, proud of himself. Only friends or not, he always liked making his best friend happy. Besides, when he was mad, Jack had to live with his dramatic, mopey ass. And that was just annoying on a number of counts. He let Davey shove at him, knowing that it was done more than playfully. They'd roughhoused with each other plenty of times, anyway.   
  
Dinner was pretty quiet, which he didn't altogether mind. Davey was more talkative than Jack was, most times, unless he'd gotten himself irritated over something, in which case eating could turn into one hell of a debate. He fought back a chuckle when his friend started yawning, knowing that he'd be in bed in no time.   
  
"Night, Davey," he answered. Cliché couple nicknames, check. Although Davey had sort of seemed against the idea. Which he could understand as far as lying to Medda went, but as far as the rest, well, they'd just have to figure it out one day at a time. He answered a text full of questions about holiday plans then went to get ready for sleep himself.   
  
Of course, genius struck. Grabbing his phone charger, he slipped into Davey's room, plugging his charger in near the door and sneaking toward the bed. It wouldn't be the first time they'd ended up dozing on each other but definitely the first time that they'd done it after Jack had called him his fake boyfriend. Just like all the other times, though, he wrapped himself around Davey and was dead asleep inside ten minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey wakes up, and Jack's... advances... aren't well received.

When Davey woke up, he was suddenly conscious that he'd octopused around someone during the night, and they'd reciprocated. He cracked open his eyes and glanced at his snuggler, then shut them quickly again. Fuck. He opened his eyes again to check they were still clothed, which thankfully they were. That meant Jack had only snuck into his room, and there hadn't been anything... adventurous... going on.  
  
He extricated himself from his friend-cum-pretend-boyfriend's grasp, wriggling out of the sheets, then proceeded to wrap up Jack in the duvet, glad he slept like the dead. Then, as a final punishment, he tipped him off the end of the bed and left him to wake up on his own, scarpering to the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind him.  
  
Jack didn't stir a muscle as Davey moved around, not waking in the slightest. The first shift away from being dead asleep was when he was unceremoniously dumped out of bed. He flailed a little, which of course didn't do a thing with how wrapped up he was. Groaning under his breath, he started to try to wriggle out but only made it about halfway before he started to fall back asleep. It wasn't like the floor was comfortable, by any means, but he was both tired and lazy at the moment.   
  
He got out eventually, however, and went to bang on the bedroom door. "Hey, angel, if you're done looking at yourself in the mirror, I have to pee. Davey. Daaavey. Come onnn, stop spending so much time in there, it's like you're a girl." And Jack would continue to whine and complain until the bathroom was freed up.  
  
"I'm taking a shower, Jack, piss off," Davey yelled back, rolling his eyes at 'angel' as well. After that, he resolutely ignored Jack as he finished his shower, and wrapped his towel around his waist securely (he'd forgotten to nab clean clothes) before stepping out of the bathroom.   
  
"There you go, Whiney," he teased, keeping a hand on his towel just in case Jack tried anything. He wouldn't put it past him. He padded back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and started to get dressed.  
  
"You piss off," Jack hollered. Which wasn't his best comeback, sure, but he was tired and he had just woken up. He was probably excused a few words getting mixed up. As Davey clearly ignored him, he kept knocking at the door, yelling various things in the hopes of getting him out of the bathroom quicker. Honestly, how long could a man take for a quick shower? It was ridiculous.   
  
Finally Davey got his annoying little butt out of the shower, and Jack was standing there whining as usual. "Yeah, thanks," he grumbled, grabbing at the towel. He only managed to slip a couple fingers under the hem but not to pull it off. He didn't bother closing the door as he used the bathroom, taking much less time than his apparent girlfriend did. "Oi, you, I need my phone," he said, kicking lightly at Davey's bedroom door.  
  
Davey smirked at him as he failed to get his towel off. "Real boyfriends only," he teased, letting the towel hang a little lower than he would usually, for the sake of decency, as he passed, giving Jack the side eye with another smirk.  
  
He groaned as Jack banged on the door. "Yeah, well, you chose to encroach on me last night, Kelly, you have to wait for your phone. Go take a shower or something, you stink." Or maybe it was just that it was pretty much a given that they'd end up snuggling later, and he loved the smell of Jack's shampoo. And body wash, deodorant, aftershave... Everything that made up Jack Smell™.  
  
"Hey, I made a very real offer last night, angel," Jack protested. "I brought you home dinner and talked about sex too, I was being a proper boytoy." Which was only half joking, really. And partly because he wanted to see what kind of reaction he'd have to him saying that, considering the reaction he'd gotten by mentioning handcuffs. He didn't even notice the look he got, distracted by how low the towel was hanging.   
  
"I chose to cuddle with my boyfriend, you asshole, that's not encroaching. And I don't stink." Just because he'd been planning on taking a shower didn't meant he smelled or anything. In fact, the whole purpose of that was so that he wouldn't start to stink. Jack whined and knocked for another couple minutes before getting bored and going off to, in fact, take a shower. Once he was finished, he was uncharacteristically quiet, intending to try to sneak up on Davey and surprise cuddle him.  
  
"Jack, you do know you're not my actual boyfriend, right?" Davey returned, a little harshly, too aware of the situation and a little bitter about it. "There's no-one here to pretend for, you can give it up. I know you're only doing it to piss me off, and well done, mission accomplished. Now piss off."  
  
He finished getting dressed and, thankful that Jack had, in fact, pissed off, he went to make breakfast, but not before nicking Jack's phone and hiding it somewhere he would never look - inside the food blender neither of them ever used, in the deep dark depths of one of their cupboards. Satisfied, he set the coffee machine going and puttered around beginning to make a bowl of cereal.  
  
"All right, all right, geez," Jack grumbled, holding his hands up and backing away from him. "Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed." No use in trying to get Davey to stop being grumpy, either, he'd only cut it out when he'd convinced himself to. And Jack didn't see the use in sticking around and likely making him angrier in some way.   
  
Of course, all that common sense went out the window when he got out into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Davey's waist from behind, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. "Whatcha doing?"  
  
Davey stopped pouring his cereal and glared at the cabinet in lieu of glaring at Jack. "I'm trying to eat breakfast, Jack. Get off me," he grumbled, setting down the box more harshly than usual in order to try and pry his hands off his waist and push his face away. "Sod off, Jack. Didn't you want to piss around on your phone this morning? Go do that."  
  
He swatted at Jack more forcefully as he didn't get off. "Jack, I'm serious. God help me, I am not dealing with you being touchy feely this morning. Go grope someone else. Piss off!"  
  
Jack frowned as Davey continued to be in a piss poor mood. Come on, there was no reason for that. "You're more enjoyable than a phone," he pointed out, meaning it. Davey was brilliant - smart, funny, liked to joke and play around. Well, sometimes, anyway, clearly not now. Which was the part that he just didn't understand, because Davey was almost never in a bad mood.   
  
But he didn't move, anyway, because why would he? "Is this still about the boyfriend thing? Come on, Davey, there's a reason I said your name when Medda asked. Don't'cha know?" Clearly Davey was either willingly or mistakenly missing the point in its completion. "You're- I-" He cut himself off with a frustrated noise, pressed up against Davey, and kissed him as hard as he could.  
  
"No I don't know, Jack, and you damn well know that-" Davey started, and then suddenly lips were on him, pressing him up against the counter, and the cupboards, and the back of his head smacked against one of the cupboard doors, but Jack still didn't stop kissing him. It took a huge shove on Davey's part to get him to stop. And then he got knuckles to the jaw.  
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you if you think this is some kind of big joke, Jack Kelly?" He yelled, pent up frustration boiling over. "Oh, I'll just use Davey, because Davey won't mind, he always does what I want him to, not like he might have an opinion on this, or might have feelings that I can completely play with and mock and completely ignore for my own benefit! I'm sick of it, Jack! I'm not your puppet! And until you can figure that out, and stop using me for your own gain without any consideration for me or giving anything back at all, I'm not being your roommate, I'm not being your friend, and I'm sure as hell not being your pretend boyfriend. So suck it up, Kelly!"   
  
And with that, he grabbed his wallet from the bowl where they kept them, along with the keys, and his jacket, and stormed out, pointedly leaving behind his set of keys. He didn't notice he was crying until he was out of the building and on the phone to Sarah, trusting her only to not tell Jack where he was hiding.  
  
For just a few seconds, Davey tasted amazing. And then Jack was shoved back and punched, and there was a flood of words that told him he'd handled this very wrongly. He tried to defend himself, to explain, but Davey was having none of it. And then he left, pointedly not taking his keys with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finally finds where Davey ran to.

Jack didn't find his phone until someone called him, and he dug through the cabinet until he found the... blender? Well, whatever. He immediately started calling everyone Davey knew that was in his phone, and finally managed to track him down at Sarah's, sort of. She was as furious as Davey had been, but she at least let Jack blurt everything out to her. And promised to give the phone to Davey.   
  
Which just meant that he suddenly realised he had no idea what to say. Of course, that was when someone picked up the phone. "Davey, I'm so sorry, I thought you knew how I felt but I got it all wrong, I fucked up, I know I did, I'm sorry, please, please just let me explain."  
  
Before Davey took the phone, he argued with his sister, an exchange that was very very audible down the line. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone! You promised, Sarah!" he cried indignantly, and glared petulantly, like a small child. At her insistence, though, he picked up the phone, sitting down opposite Sarah in the living room, daring her to move with a scowl. She was supporting him in this, or else.  
  
"Wow, Jack Kelly admitting he fucked up and apologising? The world must be coming to an end..." he retorted, switching the phone to loudspeaker and putting it down, not really wanting to touch it. Instead, he curled up more on the couch, wrapping his blanket around him, staring at the offending bit of technology. "Go on, then. Explain."  
  
Jack winced a little at the argument. Seemed like he was still causing trouble. Oops. But at least Davey was willing to listen to what he had to say, even if he already sounded petty and bitter. As he waited to know if he'd be hung up on or not, memories flooded back to him. Playing football in abandoned parking lots. Neither admitting Halloween movies were scary. Opening night tickets for an addition to Davey's favourite movie series. Trying to learn chess but frustrating Davey so much they'd settled for checkers. Falling asleep on the couch after movie marathons, curled together and feeling the rise and fall of Davey's chest against his own.   
  
"Yes," he said, ignoring Davey's tone. "Because you deserve it. I... I did you wrong. Davey, whatever happens... I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. You make everything okay and I don’t want to lose that. The reason I gave your name to Medda, the reason I teased you, the reason I kissed you, it's... it's because I've wanted that. Wanted you. And I was a coward and a fool, I didn't say anything because I was scared you wouldn't feel the same way, and I'd drive you off. But I shouldn't've done what I did. I'm sorry, angel, but I-I wasn't trying to use you, or mock you, and I never thought that... I was too stupid to realise what I was doing to you, or how much I loved you.”  
  
Davey scoffed as Jack told him he was worried about him, but didn't comment, politely letting Jack finish, mostly because of Sarah's glare. So he stuck his chin right back into his blanket-covered knees and listened to Jack speak, slightly distorted by the connection and the loudspeaker.  
  
He had been glaring, but as soon as Jack started to explain he wanted him, his frown began to slip, creasing his forehead into confusion instead, and he glanced up at Sarah. She'd known about his crush since, well, pretty much the start. She noticed the fear beginning to light up in his eyes, and slid forwards in her seat so her voice could be picked up by the phone that sat between them.  
  
"Jack, what do you mean, loved? What are you trying to say?" The unspoken 'Davey is fucking upset and confused' was pretty clear.  
  
The fact that Sarah was the one to answer didn't really surprise him. He'd bet Davey was still in the same emotional state as when he'd left, which sort of upset him himself, even though he didn't feel like he had the right. Not after how he'd used Davey, how he hadn't even been able to see what he was doing to him, the effect his actions had had on him. And Sarah's subtext was pretty clear, all things considered.   
  
"I... I never thought anything would come of it. That Davey would like me, want me. But I've liked him almost since we moved in together. I wanted to ask him out a million times, but if I'd gotten it wrong, if I'd misunderstood Davey, then I didn't know if he'd stay. I was too scared of risking a guaranteed friend for a possible boyfriend." And that was more than he'd ever confessed to anyone.   
  
"Davey, I... I dunno if you're still listening. I just know I don't have the right to ask anything of you, much less what I'm about to. But can I ask you to consider giving me a second chance? Not at being your boyfriend, I know I don't deserve that. I know. Maybe at being your friend, though?"  
  
Sarah looked over to Davey at Jack's words, and there followed a silent, but intense conversation, mostly comprised of Sarah mouthing, "You need to tell him," and Davey shaking his head. Then Sarah spoke, after quite a few minutes of this. "Jack, I think you should come here. You need to talk to Davey, and Davey needs to talk to you. And it's probably better if that isn't over the phone, and is face to face. I promise I won't hit you over the head too hard."  
  
Jack listened to a whole lot of silence before Sarah finally spoke. "Yeah," he said, the relief in his voice clear. "I'll be there in maybe ten minutes, okay?" He wasn't too far away, and he wasn't a hundred percent interested in obeying the speed limits. He'd started grabbing his wallet and keys the second Sarah had said he should join them and was already halfway out the door as he said that.  
  
As soon as they were off the phone, Davey found his voice again. "What the hell?!" he screeched indignantly, flinging his hands in the air. "I am not telling him." He huffed as Sarah sat down next to him.  
"Davey, you're both in the wrong at the moment. You can't make him apologise for insulting you when you know fine well he didn't." She lifted a hand to shut him up as he opened his mouth to protest. "You are going to sit here, and you are going to tell him. Okay?"  
He glared, but she ignored him, and went to go open the door.


End file.
